A Thousand Lives: A Reader's Wish
by HiddenReaderNinja
Summary: What would you do if you were given a magic book? Jason Miller, an ordinary bookaholic, is given a special book that draws him inside the world of Harry Potter as Harry Potter himself. As Jason slowly loses his memories of the real world, he must decide how to change things for the better, before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey everybody! So this is a story that has been itching in the back of my head since around the time I started writing FanFiction, (it's crazy, I have a million ideas now that I've actually started…) and I really, really love this idea because it has so much potential. This story was inspired by George R. R. Martin, a man who, ironically, hates FanFiction and everything to do with it. But I'll take inspiration where I can get it.**

**"A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one."**

** –George R. R. Martin**

**Disclaimer: There's no way an eighteen-year-old today can write a best seller novel seventeen years ago.**

Chapter One:

Jason Miller sighed as he put down the twelfth book he had finished that week. Checking his clock, he sighed again; it was only four thirty in the afternoon and he had nothing to do.

Jason wasn't like most thirteen-year-old boys his age. While other boys liked to play sports or sit for hours in front of a television set playing video games, Jason would never be spotted anywhere without a book in hand. Lots of kids thought he was weird and nerdy, an image not helped by his skinny figure, somewhat long dirty-blond hair or owlish eyes that made him look like a little kid.

Fortunately, he wasn't teased too much about it and had several friends who were patient enough when he went into his slightly manic binge reading, but now that he had finished all of his books and his homework having been finished since lunch the day before, he had nothing to do because all of his friends had left for a weekend campout that he had opted out of in favor of a trip to the library.

Why go camping, he argued, when you could hunt horcruxes with Harry, Ron, and Hermione? Why go fishing when you could find dragon eggs while hunting or go to a war reenactment when you could join Frodo on his quest to destroy the ring? In short, why do anything when the lives written of within the pages of a book were so much more exciting than his own?

Sighing for the last time, Jason collected the books that were strewn all across his bedroom and stuffed them into his backpack, barely managing to completely zip it to the top. There was no way he was going to survive an entire weekend without a new collection of books to keep him company, especially with his friends out camping and his parents out on an all-day hiking trip.

Jason's bike was not in the best shape. AS far as bicycles were concerned, it had never been the greatest, and he wasn't exactly the one to fix it up. But with no other mode of transportation to cover the three-and-a-half miles to the library, Jason found himself an hour-and-a-half later pushing his bike to the top of Alabama Hill, his backpack restocked with another dozen or so novels.

Reaching the top of the hill, Jason mounted his bike and kicked off, only for his pedals to stick and freeze before he had gone more than twenty paces. Cursing his bad luck and promising himself for the umpteenth time to actually take time to really fix his bike, he pushed it across the street to the park that he hadn't visited since last summer when his friends had threatened to throw his book in the lake with him if he hadn't come. Dropping his bag to the ground, Jason plopped next to his bike and got to work.

His hands were greasy and black when a figure walked up to him.

"Having troubles there, Jason?" Looking up, Jason saw his next door neighbor smiling down at him.

"Shouldn't you be on that campout with the other boys? I know my Daniel was very excited for it," Mrs. Matthews stated, eyeing Jason curiously.

Refraining from rolling his eyes with difficulty, Jason shook his head. "I've decided that a trip to the library is much more exciting than a couple nights in front of a fire, but my bike decided to die minutes from home, so I'm fixing it now."

Mrs. Matthews gave Jason an appraising look as if debating something with herself. Nodding, she held out her arm to pull Jason to his feet.

At Jason's questioning look, Mrs. Matthews simply said, "Come along, my husband is at home and I'm sure he could help with your bike. And I have something that might interest you."

~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM

Back at Mrs. Matthews' house, Jason was sitting at the coffee table sipping cocoa and nibbling on cookies as Mrs. Matthews searched her bookcases for something. Jason was getting antsy; here he was, a mere twenty feet from his front door, and he was stuck waiting for Mrs. Matthews. He wished he could just pull out one of the many books he had just gotten, but refrained so as to not appear rude.

"You see Jason, this is something you don't keep for yourself – you keep sharing it. I've been looking for years for someone to give this to. I'd give it to Daniel, but you know how he is. I think you are someone who could truly appreciate the value of it… If only I could remember where I put it…" Mrs. Matthews faded out as she seemed to be talking more to herself than to Jason. Suddenly she straightened as she appeared to have remembered something and she hustled quickly out of the room.

Before Jason could do more than wonder if it would be worth his time to take out his book, she was back with a very large and dusty book in her hands. Cringing slightly at the sorry state the book was in, Jason couldn't help but lean in to see as she handed him the dirty volume. Blowing off the dust and dirt and choking momentarily on the small cloud, Jason wondered how long it had been since Mrs. Matthews had touched this book. It made him oddly protective of it; books were meant to be shared, loved, read and reread – not stuck in some dusty and forgotten corner of the house.

"This is for you. It taught me more in one go than any teacher has in my entire life… well I suppose it does have a slightly unfair advantage… and it's teaching methods _are _rather unorthodox…" she seemed to be talking more to herself again as she reminisced, but for once Jason didn't mind. She was talking like he talked when he finished a book that had completely blown him away.

Mrs. Matthews turned back to Jason, smiling. "I'm sure you'll enjoy your journey through it as much as I did."

At this, Jason smiled too. That's what he always called his reading experiences for he lived them far more than he lived in the real world.

Mrs. Matthews straightened and said, "Well, I wouldn't want to keep you away from your pile any longer than I already have, and I'm sure Geoff has gotten your bike fixed by now. I do hope you enjoy that book I have you." She began to bustle him out the front door where his bike was indeed waiting.

"Oh, I will!" Jason promised, mounting his bike.

As he began to pedal over to his home, he heard Mrs. Matthews call after him, "Oh and Jason! Please remember, 'It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.'"

Jason reached home never realizing that his bike had never been broken and that Geoffrey Matthews had never looked at it to fix it. His bike had in fact been stopped right in front of the park that Mrs. Mathews had been enjoying an afternoon stroll by the magic of the very book that had just been given to him and now lay in the top of his bag.

The title of this book was _A Thousand Lives._

~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM

At six-thirty, Jason finally lay down on his bed to begin his new selection. An hour later, Jason was still only on the fifth or sixth page – he couldn't remember which – and couldn't recall a thing that he had read, a fact that would've bothered him had he actually been paying attention to the book in front of him. But somehow the mysteries of the Hardy Boys just weren't holding his attention; he kept finding his eyes wandering over to the largest book in his stack on his desk.

Finally giving up on the small, blue book in his hand, Jason turned to Mrs. Matthews' gift. It was a magnificent book. The cover was larger than most of his school text books and was a deep maroon color with gilded lettering spelling out the title _A Thousand Lives. _ Turning it over in his hands, Jason could find no signs of wear; it looked as if it had come straight from the bookshop, despite having spent the last several years in some forgotten corner in Mrs. Matthews' house and despite the grime that seemed to have disappeared from its face. It was as if nothing had ever happened to it.

Opening to the first page, Jason saw a single line stretching across the middle of the page, under which the word "name" was written. As Jason was about to move on to the next page, Jason suddenly saw movement across the page. To his amazement, as he watched, his name began to be spelt out in a handwriting that he immediately recognized. It was his own. Jason Isaac Miller, written exactly as he would have, including the squashing of the letters in a way that made it so few people were able to read it.

Jason gazed at his name for a few moments, too chocked to do anything more than stare. He half expected the words to disappear or change, but after nothing happened, Jason warily turned the page, not exactly sure what to expect. He was therefore somewhat disappointed to find only normal, non-magical words filling the page, that it, until he began to read.

_Jason Isaac Miller, you may believe that you found this book, that this book now belongs to you. But after you have enjoyed your experience within its pages, you will understand that you never could have found this book on your own, and that no one could ever hope to own it. This book is a book of giving, and only those who truly need it could ever discover its secrets_

_There is a simple magic in the art of telling stories, a discovery first realized several thousand years ago. Over time, it was discovered that the written word is much more powerful and long-lasting than any oral presentation. Many years passed, and the wisest and cleverest scholars realized that this power, in its most concentrated form, had the potential to change the world. For centuries, these scholars, philosophers and scientists worked together in secret to attempt to harness and control this power, but to no avail. _

_In the tenth century CE, the great warlock Merlin stumbled upon the secret by accident and harnessed it to make this book. He then shared it with King Arthur and his knights. After Camelot's fall, the world's philosophers declared the book lost and its powers were forgotten. _

_Today, the world has largely forgotten magic, but magic has not forgotten the world. It is sitting in your lap, waiting to do as it was designed: to change the world, one person at a time. It is now your turn to choose; this is the reader's choice. You give the parameters, the book does the rest._

The words ended there, and Jason blinked in surprise. Turning the book over in his hands, Jason once again noted its flawlessness and perfection. This had once belonged to King Arthur. Merlin himself had created this book. How was that for crazy? How was that even possible? And what was that about changing him?

Despite himself, Jason grinned. He had always known that there was magic. Bracing himself, he picked the book back up and once again opened it to the history of the book, where he was only slightly surprised to find that the writing was no longer a history of the book but the words of a book that he had practically memorized three years before:

_Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of Number Four, Private Drive were proud to say they perfectly normal, thank you very much…_

Jason felt himself falling backwards into darkness, and before he could even begin to process how he could be falling when he had just been sitting, his head slammed into his pillow.

Except, it wasn't _his _pillow.

In fact, as his eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness, it wasn't even his room, if this little space could even be considered a room. If he was to be honest with himself, Jason would have to call this a…

A sharp rapping sound suddenly interrupted his thoughts and a shrill voice cut through the door that was to his immediate right.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

**A/N: Oh my gosh! That was SO much fun to write! AHHH! I loved it, so much, and I hope you liked reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

**What do you think of this magic book? Any theories/ ideas of what is coming up? Have any thoughts on what you'd like to see in this – I open for input. ****J**

**Please, please, please review.**

**I live on reviews!**

**See you next week!**

**~HiddenReaderNinja**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm back! I definitely thought I would have this chapter up ages ago because I had prewritten most of this, but a lot of what I had written for chapter two I ended up putting in chapter one, so I needed some more material. And we're in the process of moving, so things are kinda crazy around here.**

**Disclaimer: Some deaths are necessary in war. Fred however did not need to die. If Harry Potter belonged to me, the only Weasley casualty would be George's ear.**

Chapter 2: Of Being Harry Potter

Jason bolted upright in shock. He knew that line. Heart pounding, Jason looked around the little room he was in and began to recognize it for what it was – a small closet, or as the British called it, a cupboard.

"Are you up yet?" The voice was back, demanding an answer.

Jason suddenly realized that the voice was talking to him and he stumbled over his response as he tried to make up for his lapse, "Um, er, nearly."

"Well get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare burn; I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

Jason gasped, his suspicions confirmed. He had just spoken to Petunia Evans Dursley, and unless he was having the craziest dream he had ever experienced, he was within the pages of his favorite book series ever.

"What did you just say?" he heard Petunia snap through the door.

"Nothing, nothing," Jason responded, knowing that it was exactly what Harry would have said. This was definitely the most bizarre thing he had ever experienced.

Three minutes later, Jason found himself in the bathroom, staring at his reflection in shock. When Jason had first walked into the bathroom, he nearly jumped out if his skin when he turned to look at himself in the mirror. Standing there, looking quite shocked and perhaps even slightly scared, was a pale, skinny boy who looked to be a year or two younger than Jason. His messy, dark hair was slightly longer than Jason's, and his eyes were a startling green. Jason shakily raised his hand to his forehead to pull back his bangs, as did the boy in the mirror, revealing a thin scar that was shaped like a bolt of lightning.

"Wicked," Jason whispered to himself, utilizing what he knew to be his soon-to-be best friend's favorite word. Suddenly, Jason felt as if someone had hit him over the head as his vision clouded over and he found himself in front of his aunt.

_Harry was standing on a stool in the kitchen so as to be high enough to reach the counter. He was stirring a large bowl of pudding while to his left Aunt Petunia was icing a grand cake._

_A sudden itch occupied Harry's thoughts and he put down the large wooden spoon to scratch at the strange scar on his forehead._

_"Aunt 'Tunia, how did I get this mark on my head? It looks like lightning!"_

_Aunt Petunia looked away from her masterpiece and pursed her lips in annoyance. "In the car crash when your parents died. And don't ask questions. How many times do I have to tell you, boy?"_

_Harry frowned and went back to the pudding. He had hoped it would be more exciting than that._

Jason jolted back, startled. Had he actually become Harry Potter? He obviously looked like him – he even had his cool English accent, but if what he had just seen was real, than he also thought like him as well! At least, in the sense that they shared memories. Jason tried to think back as far as he could remember, but was disappointed to find that there was only one memory that was not completely his own.

"What are you doing," a loud, rude sounding voice demanded, interrupting Jason's thoughts. "I'd say you look constipated, but you always look that way so I can't."

Jason turned and saw, standing in the doorway of the bathroom and snickering at his rude joke, the fattest eleven-year-old boy he had ever seen. His face was slightly pink and he looked rather full of himself.

Dudley Dursley looked nothing like his movie counterpart, which probably was a good thing. It would have been an insult to the name of any actor to even attempt to look like the real Dudley. From what Jason could see, he was fatter, meaner and stupider than anyone could ever be expected to portray.

"What are you looking at, Potter?" Dudley snapped loudly. "And what did _you_ get me for my birthday? It had better be better than last year's."

Jason felt a slight stab to the back of his head as an image of a simple homemade card came to his head, but mentally shook his head to clear himself so as to answer Dudley.

"I would tell you, Dudley, but then it would cease to be a surprise and would ruin everything that makes a birthday." Jason quickly ran out of the bathroom, not knowing any of the signs that Harry surely would as to whether or not Dudley was going to hit him.

In the kitchen, Aunt Petunia had pulled out the frying pan and was waiting for him in annoyance. Apparently he was taking longer than what Harry normally did.

"You know what to do," she said coldly, eyeing him with disapproval as she gave him the frying pan.

And indeed he did, for no sooner had she thrust the pan into his hands than a wave of memories hit him with such intensity that he had to blink a few times to keep his vision straight. Harry, age five, standing on a chair at the stove as Aunt Petunia impatiently taught him how to fry an egg and making him eat the charred results as she made several perfect eggs for Vernon, Dudley and herself. Harry, age 7, carefully balancing a tray of food on Mothering Sunday as Dudley, still half asleep and in his pyjamas, watched on with a smirk. Harry, age 9, spilling the contents of the coffee mug and frying pan as he walked over to the table and Dudley tripped him. Yes, Jason knew what to do.

But the weirdest thing about all this wasn't the sheer number of memories that had washed over him the instant he took the pan. No, what bothered him, Jason realized as he finished preparing the first stack of bacon, was the lack of personal memories that had come to surface as he prepared the meal. Jason was certain he had helped make food back home, but the only memories he could think of all included a yelling Uncle Vernon, a strict Aunt Petunia, and a smirking and demanding Dudley. It was as if he had only ever eaten at the Dursley's for breakfast. In fact, he thought as he began frying the eggs, he couldn't even recall what he had eaten that morning. Or, well, his that morning. This was all getting so confusing, and he had only been there for an hour or so.

Vernon Dursley chose that moment to walk in, looking for all the world like a giant walrus, and he looked quite furious about something.

"Potter!" He snapped, causing Jason to jump, "Aren't you done yet, you lazy boy? The mail has arrived early and Dudley is expecting cards."

Rather surprised, Jason quickly finished the eggs and put them on the plate for Uncle Vernon. This hadn't happened in the books – he was sure of it. And the only lurking variable in the equation was, well, him. Going quickly to the door, Jason saw several thick looking envelopes sitting on the doormat. Quickly flipping through them, Jason noted two bills, a postcard, four rather weighty envelopes that were probably stuffed full with cash for Dudley if Harry's memories served him, and _a letter for Harry_.

Hands shaking in anticipation, Jason was about to tear the envelope open when he noticed the letters on the front moving. This wasn't his Hogwarts letter. As he watched, Jason saw the letters of the address shift, grow, wiggle or fade until it no longer read,

**Harry James Potter**

**4 Private Drive**

**Little Whinging**

**Surrey**

but

**Jason Isaac Miller**

**PRIVATE**

Flipping the envelope over revealed a red wax seal bearing a large, intricate M.

Jason looked curiously at the seal for a moment until the loud voice of Uncle Vernon reminded him where he was, "Hurry up, boy! And bring my coffee!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Jason called, suddenly nervous.

Jason knew it was a bad idea to bring his letter back to the kitchen, but also knew that it would be next to impossible to get it into his cupboard without being noticed. Thinking quickly, Jason stuffed the envelope under the doormat and had only just straightened and put on what he hoped was an innocent face when Uncle Vernon stormed in, looking quite furious.

"What are you doing, boy? Checking for letter bombs?" He looked rather pleased with himself for his "clever" joke.

"N… no… I… I… I thought I heard the Polkiss' outside," Jason stuttered, hoping his excuse sounded believable enough to get by. He should've known better.

"Don't be stupid, boy," snarled Uncle Vernon, grabbing Jason by the collar and hauling him into the kitchen. "They won't be here until nine-thirty. And they are always very punctual." His pointed glare left Jason with no room to doubt the "unlike you" implied.

Dudley snickered as he looked momentarily away from the large pile of present he was counting. The arduous task of counting could wait in favor of the bullying of Harry. After one final smack to the head, Jason was allowed to return to his rightful place behind the stove to finish preparing breakfast as Dudley tore open the envelopes that were indeed stuffed full of cash.

Dudley had just restarted counting the mountain of presents that had taken over most of the table when Jason began setting the plates of bacon and egg before the few empty spaces remaining.

Dudley by far had the most food piled on his plate, which more than doubled the serving size on Vernon's plate, which was saying something because Vernon ate more than Jason's older cousin, Archie, who was a swimmer. Petunia, on the other hand, ate very little, insisting on only being served two small pieces of bacon and one very small egg. And at the very bottom of the totem pole was Jason with one small egg and a small, slightly shriveled looking piece of bacon.

Jason didn't complain; he knew that soon enough he'd be eating better than a king on his very first day at Hogwarts. But for now he was stuck watching Dudley realize that he had two fewer presents than last year and throw a tantrum to rival any two-year-old's. Jason sighed and picked at his breakfast. September first couldn't come quickly enough.

~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM

Jason was at the zoo, once again feeling nervous and excited. He couldn't wait until they entered the reptile house where he would perform his very first bit of magic.

Jason had never been to the zoo, always too interested in his books to care, and had never left the United States in his life. Going to the London Zoo seemed twice as exotic as any other family outing he had ever been on, even if he had been paying full attention at the time. It was also the first time for Harry, and Jason was determined to make the most of it for the two of them. However by lunchtime, Jason had to amend that statement. Perhaps it was his foreknowledge of the boa constrictor that he would set on Dudley, or perhaps as a thirteen-year-old he was just too old for zoo trips, but by the time they reached the zoo restaurant, Jason was itching to leave the place. All he wanted to do, Jason reflected as Dudley threw yet another tantrum, was to go to the reptile house and see magic at last.

Finally, after Dudley had finished his second ice cream and third chocolate bar and Piers had finished off Jason's fries, they left the restaurant for the one place all three boys had been looking forward to since they had arrived – the house of snakes. Jason had to force himself to not run after Dudley and Piers as they raced around the building to find the most dangerous and poisonous snakes.

Jason slowly wandered away from the Dursley's, knowing from both Harry's memories and his own that they wouldn't notice unless something out of the ordinary happened. Soon he found his prize – the large, man-crushing Boa Constrictor. Dudley was already there, pounding on the glass hard enough to make it rattle, demanding that the snake move.

"Make it move," he whined at his father.

Despite knowing of this beforehand, Jason gritted his teeth in annoyance. Never in his life had he ever met someone so unpleasant and spoiled. It was far worse than he could have ever imagined. The books hadn't been able to truly portray how bad it was to actually live with him – and Jason had only been here a day! How the Dursley's were able to live with their own son, Jason couldn't fathom.

After Dudley had sulked off to bother some other creature, Jason tentatively stepped up to the giant snake, suddenly unsure of himself. What if he couldn't speak Parsletongue? What if he actually didn't have any magic at all and had to live the rest of his existence inside of a magical book with the Dursleys?

"Er, hullo," Jason said lamely, unsure of how he should start. "I've never talked to a snake before. I'd never done a lot of things before today."

For some odd reason, Jason felt compelled to tell his entire story to this snake. "Do… do you ever feel like the life you have isn't at all what it could be?" The snake raised its head a little and gave Jason a look that said quite plainly, "Well duh."

Jason realized what he had said and quickly made to amend his statement, "Oh, right. What I mean is…"

"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T _BELIEVE_ WHAT IT'S DOING!"

This was it; the moment of truth. The moment that would determine if he, Jason Miller, was actually a wizard, that he was worthy of holding the name of Harry Potter in this world.

Dudley and Piers leaned against the glass, their noses pressed flat like a pigs. Jason stared, willing the magic to work. Any moment now, they would leap back in horror and the snake would be set free.

Nothing happened.

Jason stared at the glass, willing his sort-of cousin to fall inside, willing the boa to slide out of her prison and find her freedom in Brazil. But the glass remained as solid as ever and the snake simply hissed her displeasure at the two nuisances disturbing her slumber, intruding in on her privacy.

Dejected, Jason picked himself off the floor, not quite remembering how or when he had gotten there, and walked away from the scene.

He didn't have magic.

He probably couldn't even talk to snakes and had imagined that the boa had been listening to him.

So immersed was he in his thoughts of self-pity and woe that he didn't notice the wet floor sign until it was too late. His stomach lurched inside of him as he realized he was falling. The last thing he heard before his head hit the floor was a lot of screaming and stamping feet, and then with a slight thud, everything went black.

Jason couldn't have been out for longer than a moment, because when he opened his eyes, the sounds of shouting and running footsteps could still be heard down the hall in the general direction of the exit. Raising his aching head to survey his surroundings, Jason's eyes immediately fell on Vernon Dursley only a few feet away, who was shouting obscenities into the sky as Aunt Petunia wailed and Dudley and Piers spluttered and slipped over themselves as they tried to climb out of the exhibit, dripping wet.

Tearing his eyes from this precious sight, Jason quickly found the great boa, slithering down the hallway in the opposite direction of the exit, but she wasn't alone. From each aquarium and exhibit she passed, lizards, snakes, frogs, scorpions, spiders, and any number of other creatures creeped, crawled, and slithered their way down from the enclosures they had been stored to join their fellow escapees.

Jason hadn't only vanished the glass from the boa's exhibit, but from every other creature's in the hall as well.

Uncle Vernon was going to kill him.

~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM~HP~JM

Two hours and a rather one side shouting match later, Jason found himself locked in his cupboard under the stairs, where he was to remain until the end of the century, having no idea how he had done what he had done. He was thrilled of course that he had been able to perform magic, but was absolutely bamboozled as to how he had actually done it.

Why hadn't the glass vanished right after Dudley had knocked him to the ground like it was supposed to?

Why had it done so after?

And more importantly, how in the world had he vanished all of it? He never would've purposefully freed everything – many of those creatures were poisonous!

Jason sighed and lay down on the small bed that was now his. He was stuck in here until at least the summer holidays, whenever that was, and Jason somehow knew that his punishment was going to be longer than Harry's do to the severity of the crime. Jason was almost surprised the mass breakout hadn't made it onto the news. He supposed the Ministry must've done something to cover it up.

Shifting his weight slightly, Jason was surprised to hear the crinkly sound of paper. Reaching under his pillow from which the sound had emanated, Jason felt something thick and slightly weighty. His letter!

Somehow it had found its way from under the doormat in the front room into his cupboard. With all of the earlier excitement, he had completely forgotten about it. Reaching up to turn his little dangling light on, Jason stared momentarily at the wax seal on the back, wondering what the M could stand for, before tearing the envelope open.

Thick parchment paper fell out onto his lap, and with great anticipation, Jason picked it up to read:

_Dear Master Miller,_

_My magic tells me that you are the most recent recipient of my gift to the worlds, and that you have found your way into mine. As I'm sure you know, the wizarding world is a wondrous place, but can also be one of the most terrible._

_I'm sure that by now you have noticed that strange things have been happening around you, perhaps when you touch a book or look down street or into a mirror. Memories belonging to Harry Potter have suddenly become available to you, and while this may seem exciting, it does come at a cost. For every memory gained, another is lost. This may seem unfair, but your sanity depends on it. Over the space of several years you will change until you are no longer Jason Miller, but Harry Potter. What you do up until then is up to you._

_What will you do with your memories?_

_Yours in fellowship,_

_Merlin Ambrosius_

_Chief Advisor to King Arthur of Camelot_

**A/N: So Jason is going to lose his memories, huh? What do you think he will do with his secret knowledge of the future before it grows too late? What should he fix? **

**Merlin?! How is Merlin writing to Jason? (I only have a vague idea, so if you all would give me some input, I might be able to come with a more concrete answer.)**

**There was a question regarding pairings for this story, and I will say this straight out: Because Jason is going to be stuck in this world for a long time, I'm not just going to say that he's not going to go out with girls, but at the same time, I'm not dealing with relationships. There may be a few dating moments – Cho and Harry went on a date in canon, and there is the Yule Ball to think about – but nothing more drastic than that. I may mention if Harry/Jason thinks a girl is cute, and if Harry/Jason does end up with a girl, it will only be brought up 1) as frequently as JK brings is up, which is to say hardly at all and 2) near the end of the series (book 6, minimum). Again, romance is not a keystone to any of my stories.**

**Any other suggestions/questions/comments?**

**Review!**

**Coming up: Owls, Magic, and Diagon Alley**

**~HiddenReader**

**Oh, and one last mini announcement. I am now officially a Beta, so if any of you need someone, I'm available. :)**


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